A Thing Called Love
by scarylolita
Summary: Rigby and Mordecai are best friends, but sometimes they're more than that. Slash/Human AU.
**Regular show © JG Quintel.**

 **I can't believe it y'all I'm writing another RS fic :~) I tried to make the boys as IC as possible, but they always give me a bit of a hard time.**

 **Mordecai's POV again. Next time I'll try Rigby or do third person.**

 **Warnings: OOC probably, relationship troubles, HUMAN AU**

* * *

Rigby is mad at me for bruising his butt cheek in a game of extreme Punchies. He always starts it, even though he can't finish it. He always ends up losing. He still hasn't learned.

"Don't start what you can't finish!" I tell him after he has yet another temper tantrum.

"You hit too hard, Morde- _bitch_!" he retorts before stomping off, muttering angry Spanish the entire time. He's Puetro Rican and I often hear him cussing me out in his native tongue. They're the only words I understand, but sometimes he mutters other things. I always ask him what he's saying, but he never tells me. He probably doesn't want me to know. It annoys me. It makes me feel like he has a secret.

I don't chase after him. I just let him leave. He probably needs some time to simmer. He'll be fine later.

I continue doing yard work for about an hour. I feel like I get more done when he isn't around because he always ends up finding a way to distract me from my job. Then we both end up in trouble. I guess it's not entirely his fault, though. I could say no. I could tell him to just keep working… but I never do. I always fall into his traps because he knows what to say to get me going.

I decide to take my break around late noon and I head inside, going upstairs and into our room. The door is closed, of course. Rigby is probably sulking.

"Come on, Rigby," I say, knocking on the door before swinging it open. "Crybaby time is over."

He's sitting on my bed with his cellphone. He's probably texting Eileen, complaining about me to her like he always does when he's mad. Eileen probably thinks I'm a jackass. Last time we all got drunk together she caught Rigby giving me a blowjob in the kitchen. We were pretty trashed. We were supposed to refill everyone's drinks and we just got distracted. Eileen came to see what was holding us up. She probably saw more than she bargained for. That happened a couple months ago and she hasn't said a word to me since. I think she thinks I use Rigby because _a hole is a hole_ , but it's not like that.

"I'm NOT crying, douche!" Rigby snaps at me.

I sit down next to him. "Whatever. Why do you always do shit like this?"

"Because I want to beat you at something for once!" he replies angrily.

"Ha-ha! Yeah, right! You're, like, five feet tall, dude. It's not gonna happen."

"Five foot and _two inches_!" he corrects.

"Ooh yeaaa, can't forget the two inches," I snort, being sarcastic.

"We can't _all_ be six feet tall!"

I roll my eyes and decide to cut my losses. I'll be the bigger person and be the first to apologize… like always. "Fine," I tell him calmly. "I'm sorry, then, okay?"

"Fine," he murmurs. I put an arm around him and he immediately recoils. "Eeew!" he whines, pushing me off.

"Dude, it's just a hug!" I laugh at him. "Besides, we do way worse things than this."

He puffs up his cheeks, looking like he's trying hard to stifle himself. It's something he has a difficult time doing because he has no filters.

It's true, though. We HAVE done worse things than hug. Me and Rigby have been screwing since we were twenty. It stops when we get into relationships, but as soon as we're both single we're back in bed together. We don't kiss, though. That's the rule. It's like kissing would make it so much realer. Neither of us wants that.

I always chase after unattainable girls and Rigby always settles for guys who are assholes. Then shit explodes in both of our faces and we stew in one another's misery, getting drunk and then screwing. It's a cycle.

Maybe it'd be easier if me and Rigby dated. I like girls, but sometimes I also like guys and I can admit that I'm attracted to him as well… and maybe he feels the same way. Unlike me, Rigby doesn't like girls. He tried things with Eileen for a while, but it didn't last. Now they're just friends and they both seem to prefer it that way.

After Eileen, he dated this annoying asshole named Doug for a while. Things ended when they got into a big fight. It was pretty messed up. Rigby doesn't talk about it much and I don't want to pry, so I try not to think about it.

I think Rigby deserves a lot better than he thinks, so he settles for people who treat him like crap. Maybe it's hypocritical of me to be saying that, because there are times I treat him like crap, too… but in the end he's my best friend. I love him and all that shit.

Rigby is good looking. He acts like an idiot and he's sloppy, but beneath it all he's a pretty cute guy. His skin is brown, like his eyes and his messy hair. His brows are thick and nicely shaped. He has a young face. He's small – skinny, but not scrawny. He has a nice stomach. It's flat and soft. He eats a lot, but I guess his metabolism is fast. Plus, as lazy as he seems, he still stays pretty active. He could probably find someone better, but he never tries to. He always settles for guys who treat him like shit or guys that are total eyesores.

I took his virginity. We were watching some movie and I had my hand down my pants because drinking always makes me horny. Then I just popped the question. " _Hey, wanna fuck?"_ Rigby looked at me like I had ten heads, but he was down for it.

I didn't think he was a virgin at the time, though. He had been on dates before – with girls in the past and with guys more recently – so I just assumed he slept with at least one of them… but I guess not. He awkwardly confessed it to me afterward, even though I never asked. Maybe he just thought I had a right to know.

" _I was a virgin."_

I felt guilty. I felt guilty because we were both drunk and neither of us knew what the hell we were doing with one another. Rigby is a lightweight. He was drunk after a few beers. I downed an entire bottle of wine. I think that's the only reason I asked him if he wanted to do it. If I was sober, the words never would've come out, even if I wanted them to.

I wasn't a virgin. I lost mine when I was sixteen to a girl I dated in high school. Rigby knew that and maybe it's why he never told me he was a virgin. Maybe he expected me to rip on him for it like I rip on him for so many other things. I wouldn't have done that, though. I know I give him a hard time, but I don't mean any of it.

"Rigby?"

"Hm?"

"Let's get back to work," I say. "Benson will have our asses if we're gone for much longer."

With a whiny groan, he agrees and we sit up and head back out.

* * *

Towards 5PM, Benson heads out to inspect the yard. "It looks… oddly nice," he says, sounding pleased. "Good job."

Me and Rigby look at each other and nod approvingly. "Hmm. Hmm."

With that, we head inside. Rigby showers and I cook dinner – a simple pasta dish. Rigby never cooks. All his moments in the kitchen have been less than stellar. Now no one lets him near the stove.

When he's done showering, he sits down and says, "Feed me." He's already wearing his pyjamas – an old tee that used to belong to me and some loose sweatpants that ride low.

"Baby," I tease, putting a plate in front of him.

We eat together, chatting mildly about stupid things. Rigby is a messy eater. He eats like he's five years old and half of the food on his plate ends up on the table or on his chin.

"Wipe your chin off," I say.

"No," he replies. "I'm saving it for later."

I roll my eyes at him, but I don't try to argue. It's not worth it and we already fought once today.

"Did you leave any hot water?" I ask when I'm finished eating.

"Yes," he says dryly.

I put my plate in the sink and head upstairs to wash up. True to his word, Rigby did indeed leave me some hot water.

I shower quickly, rinsing shampoo from my hair and washing off with soap. You get pretty sweaty working under the hot sun all day, but I don't mind 'cause it keeps you in shape when you don't have time for the gym.

Once clean, I turn off the taps and pull back the curtains, grapping a towel and drying off. Wrapping it around my waist, I wipe the condensation off the sink mirror and stare at myself. I'm a pretty confident guy. I went through an awkward stage, but puberty was good to me. I'm tall and thin with blue eyes and naturally black hair that I dye blue. Blue is my favourite color, so why not. My features are pretty sharp and my skin is pretty pale, but I think it all suits me.

I don't tan, I just burn, so when the sun is out I need to lather on half a tube of sunscreen to make sure I don't end up looking like a tomato. Rigby thinks it's funny. Unlike me, he has never had a sunburn in his life.

I put on a pair of plaid PJ pants and a black tank. Grabbing a clip, I pin my bangs out of my face before leaving the bathroom. Back downstairs, I find Rigby in the living room channel surfing with Pops. Pops is probably the one person who doesn't get pissed off when Rigby gets indecisive over the TV.

"Just pick something," I snap at him.

"I'm trying," he replies tartly. "Wanna just watch a movie?"

"Sure, as long as it isn't horror," I say. "You can't handle horror movies and I don't want you waking me up every night to walk you to the bathroom."

He flushes and says, "That only happened _twice_!"

I snort back a laugh. "Twice is still too many times for a twenty-three year old."

Around 7PM, Muscle Man and Fives saunter in through the front door. I guess they're done whatever they've been doing out in the yard all day.

Muscle Man's real name is Mitch. He's a big, burly dude who lives in a trailer near the park. Fives is the ghost of a young man who lives with him. I think it started out as a haunting, but then he stuck around. He has dark circles for eyes and a permanent smile on his face that looks more like a grimace. I don't really know how he died. We all thought it'd be kind of insensitive to ask.

I swear, for some reason, everyone ends up here to hang out. I guess this is the place to be when you have nothing better to do after your shift.

"What are we watching?" Muscle Man asks.

"I don't know," I say, blatantly annoyed. "Rigby has yet to decide."

Muscle Man rolls his eyes and snatches the remote away from Rigby. "Well, me and Fives went to the Movie Shack Hut," he says before holding up a VHS that reads _Let Me Axe You Something_.

I roll my eyes. Great, another horror movie. I glance at Rigby and I can tell he knows exactly what I'm thinking because he looks a little sheepish.

Muscle Man puts the VHS into the player and presses play before grabbing a seat.

Halfway into the movie, Rigby is looking pretty tense. He has the neck of his t-shirt over his mouth and nose. I laugh when I notice and give him a nudge. "You doin' okay?"

"Fine," he says, forcing himself to relax.

I let out a little laugh and head into the kitchen, returning with some cold beers. I hand one to everyone (except Pops, who doesn't drink).

Rigby opens his hastily, sucking it back just as fast.

* * *

When the credits roll, Rigby is a little tipsy. He's a whiny drunk, so I drag him upstairs and let him sleep in my bed instead of on his shitty air mattress on the floor like he usually does.

"Rigby?" I say his name as I lie down beside him.

"Hm?" he asks groggily.

"Have you slept with anyone apart from me?" I pry.

It's something I've been wondering about, but I never really knew whether or not I should ask him.

"Yeah," he says.

"Who?"

"Just… guys I've been out with," he says.

"Which ones?" I ask, because none of the guys I've seen him with were good enough for him.

"The last guy," he starts. "I slept with him. The one before that, too… and the one before that. Um, Doug…"

"Why, though?" I wonder.

"I don't know," he admits. "Because they wanted to, I guess."

"Did _you_ want to?"

"I didn't really care."

That bugs me. "Why not?"

"I don't want to talk about thissss…" he groans.

"Do you like yourself?" I pry.

"Not particularly," he starts. "I'm not a good person." He pauses and then, before I can respond, he adds, "Let's not talk about it."

"Fine," I murmur, letting it go.

I don't understand him. He's so, so, so permissive. I don't understand why he can just sleep with whoever asks for a piece, regardless of whether or not he's attracted. Then something hits me.

"Hey… did you want to sleep with me?" I ask. "Because if you didn't… then you should tell me and we won't do it again."

"I wanted to," he says quietly, "so, don't worry about it. You're not like them."

"Okay," I respond, relieved to know that much.

"Now stop fucking talking and go to sleep," he murmurs.

I let out a little laugh and decide to do so.

* * *

The following day is our day off. Me and Rigby bum around, not doing much of anything until later in the evening when I look at him and say, "Why do you let guys treat you like shit?"

I can't really let this new info go. It's going to bother me until I get a concrete answer from him.

"I don't know," he admits. "Honest… I know you ask me that question a lot and you always get the same answer, but it's the truth. I don't know why I'm so permissive. I guess I'm just not used to being treated well, so I let things slide when I shouldn't."

I frown at that. "Tell me if I fuck up. Please. I don't want to be like the assholes who walk all over you. I know I give you a hard time sometimes but I don't want to hurt you."

"All right," he mumbles. I can tell he's annoyed with the topic.

I know I probably have hurt him before and knowing it makes me feel like shit. He's the person I want to keep safe and happy above anyone else and I can't even manage to do that part right.

"We're young," he says to me, almost like he's reading my mind. "Don't worry about the past. It's all forgiven. We've both been stupid before. It's okay. We learn from it, right?"

"Right," I agree softly.

"So, wanna do it?" he propositions, changing the subject drastically.

"Okay."

It's so unceremonious – the way it typically is. There isn't exactly anything romantic about it. We both fling off our clothes and get into bed. We do this a lot. I know there's kind of an unspoken rule that says not to sleep with your best friend, but neither of us is known to follow rules all that well.

I stare down at Rigby. He looks smaller without his clothes on, if that's even possible. I slick my fingers with lube and bring them back down to his backside, eliciting a quiet sound of pleasure as I rub circles. He never tells me to hurry up. Honestly, I feel like he might still be shy and uncomfortable when it comes to this stuff because he hardly ever tells me what he wants. He just leaves me guessing. So, I try to stick with to the basics. I slip the first finger in and then the second and his breath hitches.

"How do you feel?" I ask him, because he never says a thing unless I ask him to.

"It feels good…" he whispers, arching towards me. His eyes are closed and there's a crease in his brow, almost like he's concentrating or something.

I wiggle my fingers deeper before finally pulling them out. Rigby lets out a sigh, opening his eyes and staring up at me, waiting for me to make the next move.

"Hurry," he says, holding his knees against his shoulders and wiggling his toes.

I like it when he gets eager and demanding because it's a pretty rare occurrence. So, I do as he asks. I tighten my grip on his hips, pulling him towards me and picking up the pace. Rigby closes his eyes, seeming to get lost in the movements. He puts his hands over his mouth. He always stifles himself. I want to tell him not to because I like the sounds he makes, but he'd just tell me that he doesn't want anyone to hear what we're doing and I guess I get that.

"Wanna switch positions?" I ask him, slowing down.

"We always do it in this position," he points out, staring up at me.

"Exactly."

I pull out and sit against my pillows, patting my groin. "Sit here," I say.

He's hesitant, but he shifts towards me and complies. He positions himself on my lap and sinks down slowly. "What do I do? I've never done this position before."

"Never?"

"No."

"Just grind your hips back and forth," I instruct.

He does so, wrapping his arms around my shoulders and keeping me close. He lets out soft, breathy moans directly into my ear. I can sense his hesitance and I can tell he's inexperienced, but that's the part I find endearing.

* * *

Next time we drink, Rigby gets smashed and he tells me he loves me. Then he cries like he did something wrong and I'm left standing still with my jaw dropped.

"Why are you crying?" I finally muster up.

"Because this wasn't supposed to happen!" he snaps, swiping at his eyes only to make room for more tears. "I wasn't supposed to get _feelings_ for you!" He sniffles and closes his eyes, letting out a calm breath. "But if I'm honest with myself, I'll admit that this is nothing new. I've felt something for you for a damn long time."

Maybe this is why that rule exists. Don't sleep with your best friend because sooner or later someone will end up with feelings... but maybe it doesn't have to end in tragedy.

"Oh," I say softly.

His shoulders shake as he slumps forward, putting his head in his hands. "Damn it…" he moans miserably.

I grab his face in my hands, forcing him to look at me. He closes his eyes, flush-faced and distraught. So, I cut my losses and lean forward, kissing him for the first time in my life.

I feel him jump, almost like he's surprised, but then he eases into it and kisses back. His lips part and I feel his tongue. He tastes like hard liquor.

He's the first to pull away and when he does he stares at me critically. I stare back. He's no longer crying, but he still looks upset and his cheeks are wet. My hands are still on his face. I smudge the tear-stains with my thumbs and then let go of him.

"Since when?" I ask quietly.

"Always, maybe," he admits.

I lean forward and kiss him again – once, twice and then a third time. They're sloppy, drunk, open-mouthed kisses, but he seems into it.

"What does this _mean_?" he asks when we part for the second time.

"It means I feel something for you, too," I tell him. "Maybe I have for a while and that's why all my relationships go down the shitter."

He lets out a short laugh and then shrugs, leaning into me. I wrap my arms around him and we stay still for a while, not saying much of anything.

I guess this is the exact moment when things will begin to change. For better or for worse, I'm not yet sure. I like to think this will be the start of something great and not the beginning of yet another tragic downfall of a relationship. I don't want to fuck things up with Rigby. He's been a permanent part of my life since we met when we were kids. I don't want that to change.

We'll do it right this time. We won't hurt one another.

"I love you…" he murmurs, saying it almost like he wishes he didn't.

"Hey, I love you, too," I say it back.

.

.

.

 **Epilogue**

After one month, things begin to feel less worrisome. After two months, all the worry is gone. After three months, things feel perfect. After four months, I'm more in love than I've ever been before. After five months, the feeling just continues to grow. This is my longest relationship and I know that that has to mean something.

I don't think anyone was surprised when me and Rigby got together. I guess we were the only ones who were taken off guard.

Right now, we're lying in bed after yet another long day of work. It's late, nearing midnight.

"Funny," Rigby murmurs groggily. "After seeing each other through countless break-ups, it always ends with us."

"I guess we should've taken the hint long ago," I say with a laugh.

He smirks wearily in agreement, rolling over to face me. "But we know now, so that's what matters."

"Yeah," I agree.

"I used to wish I didn't feel this way," he confesses, "but I don't anymore. I'm glad it's you."

I smile to myself. "I'm glad it's you, too."

Love is rarely expected. If you look for it, you'll never find it. When you stop, it shows up. It can happen at the strangest time with the strangest person, but when you let go you realize that's it's all worth it. It's meant to be.

Rigby closes his eyes and I watch him for a few minutes before doing the same, thinking about that little thing called love.

 **Fin.**


End file.
